Harry Potter and the Quest for the Golden Snitch
by Goggle Girl
Summary: A parody of "Monty Python and the Holy Grail", "King" Harry goes on a quest accompanied by his knights to take back the most Golden of Snitches from the evil French Slytherins.
1. Of Ravenclaws and Coconuts

_Author's Notes: Yeah, I know... there are about a million and one things I should be doing other than this right now... updating my LJ... updating my site... fixing up my site... working on those illustrations for my dad's children's stories... working on illustrations for a fic of mine... updating "Nasty Little Buggers"... working on the "Utopian Basilisks" fic for my friends... condemning Sean for saying "The Hulk" was a **good** movie... tsk tsk... but, as you can see, I'm **not.** So meh! Be**sides**, there's no use in me trying to update another fic when I'm not in the mood for it and have my creativity bent on something else, right? Right! So... without further ado, the parody which has probably been done before but **I. DON'T. CARE.**_

_Okay, I lied, I'm still talking! Think of it this way, imagine my author's note is like the credits to the opening of "The Holy Grail" except I'm not babbling about useless moose, I'm babbling about my life. And we all know how much of an enrapturing and **wonderful** subject that is, right? Oh! I never told anyone about the boat I went on with my family on a tour of Toronto harbour (*yawn* *snore* BORING!!!). Lake Ontario is GREEN... but I knew that already... I've lived here all my life. **Anyway**, our ship's captain looked like Billy Boyd! No accent though...so he wasn't... but he **looked like him! ** So, despite the fact I have no idea what his real name was, he is now known as "Cap'n Billeh!" *grins* By me little hobbit feet, Cap'n Billeh bought a hot dog! It was the one hot dog... **TO RULE THEM ALL!** Don't bother... inside joke... just keep reading along._

_I just noticed I forgot to **explain** this fic… I guess I best be doing that now then. I don't think fanfiction.net allows for fics in which it's just speaking… so I had to stick this into a sentence structure… hopefully it'll still retain its humour. And if the writing is supposed to seem like a mockery and even corny in some parts… that is all done on purpose._

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, places, or things, nor am I the owner/creator of the gags seen in the movie "Monty Python and the Holy Grail". I own nothing! Sue me and you'll get just that.**

**_Harry Potter and the Quest for the Golden Snitch_**

**Chapter One: Of Ravenclaws and Coconuts**

It was seven hundred and eighty seven in the year of our lord. The sun was hidden behind thick grey cloud, casting a dim shadow over the land. Typical weather for the British Isles, but to the untrained reader it was a mysterious land. Mist and fog hung in the low valleys, creating an atmosphere in which it appeared anything could happen. But anything _didn't_ happen… _something_ happened. Something by the name of Harry Potter.

For the sake of this story, Harry was a king. Not quite the King of England, but a high ranking king of an oblivious society, thus demanding but not receiving respect. Accompanied by his loyal fan, Colin Creevy, Harry made his way across the land in search of kinsman to join him in his celebrated court.

He rose, like a shadow through the mists, elegantly scrawny and messy haired, the infamous lightning scar emblazoned on his forehead. The clip clops of a horse could be heard, echoing through the misty valley. Out of the mists came Harry atop nothing at all. Behind him came Colin, eagerly bashing the two halves of a hollowed out coconut together. Most people would gawk at this site but fortunately no one was around.

The two boys came to a mighty stone castle which, being unimportant in the grand scheme of things, shall go unnamed. As the mist dramatically cleared, Harry looked around, halting Colin's eager coconut bashing with a raise of his hand.

"Halt! Who goes there?" Harry looked up. A gruff looking guard in robish armor of blue by the name of Roger Davies peered down the battlements at the scrawny bespectacled boy.

Harry puffed out his chest proudly. Now was his first moment to let his ego shine. "It is I!" he hollered up to Roger, "Harry, son of James, from the castle Hogwarts. King of all oppressed children, defeater of the Dark Lord, sovereign of all the magical community!"

There was a short pause as Roger looked down at the young king. He thought hard about what had just been said to him. Harry had just claimed to be king or something of the like! He took another good look at Harry before coming to a very intelligent decision. "Get away!"

"I am!" insisted Harry. "And this is my somewhat trusted servant—I mean dear fan, Colin."

"Hello!" squeaked Colin. He was quickly silenced by a meaningful glare in his direction.

"We have ridden the length and breadth of this land," continued Harry, ignoring Colin, "in search of knights who will join me in my court at Hogwarts. I must speak with your lord and master."

"Ridden?" repeated Roger incredulously. "You _rode_ here? First of all, haven't you ever heard of a broom? And secondly, what did you ride here on?"

"A horse," came the reply.

Roger scratched his head in wonder. He saw no horse. His eyes fell upon the coconut shells Colin held in his hands. "You're using coconuts!"

"What?"

"You've got two empty shells and you're banging them together!"

_Drat, he's found me out!_ thought Harry. _No matter, just ignore it and keep your cool. You're the Boy Who Lived! No prissy Ravenclaw git is going to push you around!_ Harry looked up defiantly at Roger. "So? We have ridden since the snows of winter covered this land, through the kingdom of Hogsmeade."

Roger was more interested in other things though. "Where did you get the coconuts?" 

"Through…" Harry paused in mid epic. "We found them."

"Found them?!" Roger leaned on the battlement in mock interest. "In Hogsmeade? The coconut's tropical!"

"What do you mean?"

Roger rolled his eyes at the Gryffindor's stupidity. "This is a temperate zone."

Harry crossed his arms, determined to match the Ravenclaw's intelligence. "The swallow may fly south with the sun, or the house martin or the plumber seek warmer climes in winter, yet surely these are not strangers to our land." Harry grinned, pleased at his own analogy.

"Are you suggesting coconuts migrate?"

Harry's fists clenched, furious at being made a fool yet again. "Not at all. They could be carried."

Roger smirked with an air of superiority. "What? A swallow carry a coconut?"

"Why not?" asked Harry. "He could grip it by the husk."

"It's not a matter of where he grips it," sighed Roger. "It's a simple matter of weight ratios. A five-ounce bird could not hold a one pound coconut."

"Well it doesn't matter," dismissed Harry, accepting his logical defeat. "Go and tell your master that Harry from the court of Hogwarts is here."

There was a slight pause, as a few wispy clouds of mist rolled dramatically by. Harry and Colin waited expectantly for entrance to the castle to be granted. Roger, however, had other plans... rub in Harry's lack of logic.

"Look!" exclaimed Roger. "To maintain velocity a swallow needs to beat its wings four hundred and ninety three times every second. Right?"

"Please-!"

"Am I right?"

"I'm not interested!"

"It could be carried by an African swallow!" Harry turned his gaze. Roger had just been joined atop the battlements by another Ravenclaw.

"Oh yes, an African swallow maybe," agreed Roger, "but not a European swallow. That's my point."

The second Ravenclaw nodded. "Oh yes, I agree there."

A vein was beginning to throb in Harry's temple. He was quickly losing his patience. "Will you ask your master if he wants to join the knights of Hogwarts?!"

"But then of course, African swallows are non-migratory," Roger continued, completely oblivious to Harry. The second guard nodded in agreement.

Harry raised his eyes towards the heavens in disbelief. Why?! This was supposed to be easy! Out of all the castles in the world and for some unknown reason or horrible destiny, he had to pick the _Ravenclaw_ one. Sighing, Harry motioned for Colin to follow as he turned and began his stride around the side of the castle. If the Ravenclaws didn't want to join him and preferred discussing swallows and coconuts, that was their loss. Roger and the other Ravenclaw, however, had completely forgotten Harry and his fan.

"So you see, they wouldn't be able to bring a coconut back anyway," Roger concluded.

"Wait a minute!" cried the second Ravenclaw. "Suppose two swallows carried it together?"

"No." Roger shook his head. "They'd have to have it on a line."

"Well, they could use a bit of creeper," suggested the Ravenclaw guard.

"What, held under the dorsal guiding feathers?"

"Well why not?"

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_I think I might do it one chapter per scene depending on how long the scene lasts. Now, for your part... review!_


	2. Mud, Blood, and Dirt

_Author's Notes: Despite a **serious** lack of reviews from everyone, I decided to go ahead and post chapter two. Okay, to be honest the only reason I'm posting this is because I already had it done and since it took **three hours** of my precious time (I had **other** things I could have and probably was supposed to be doing but **noooooooooooo** I decided to please you all and post something! And what do I get?! **NOTHING!!!**) I figured there's no sense in just tossing this away._

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, places, or things, nor am I the owner/creator of the gags seen in the movie "Monty Python and the Holy Grail". I own nothing! Sue me and you'll get just that.**

_**Harry Potter and the Quest for the Golden Snitch**_

**Chapter Two: Mud, Blood, and Dirt**

Meanwhile, in another part of the Ravenclaw-controlled territory, a completely unrelated event was occurring. A thin, gangly man was making his way down the muddy, festering street. Peasants crawled through the muck all around him, wailing and groaning. _The pubs must not be open yet_, he thought to himself.

His name was MacNair, former executioner for the Ministry of Magic. However, for the sake of this story and this chapter in particular, he was now nothing more than a lowly, bitter dead collector. Behind him, creaked along his rancid cart, piled high with the twisted corpses of the day's deceased. He beat upon a tin saucer pan, crying out into the streets for the inhabitants to bring out their dead.

A tall man, with long jet black hair waded through the mud and peasants towards the cart, a lumpy package swung over his shoulder. His name was Sirius Black, supposed ex-convict and godfather to "King" Harry Potter. The package was none other than the "dead" Peter Pettigrew.

"Hold up there!" called Sirius, making his way over to MacNair and the cart. "Here's one!"

"Nine knuts." MacNair held out his hand for Sirius to deposit the bronze coins into. Sirius did with some difficulty, as the supposedly dead body began to squirm.

"I'm not dead!" it squeaked.

MacNair blinked, startled. "What?"

"Nothing," dismissed Sirius, choosing to ignore Peter. "Here's your nine knuts."

"I'm not dead!" repeated Peter.

MacNair handed Sirius back his coins. "Here. He says he's not dead."

"Yes he is," insisted Sirius. "It was all over the papers."

"I'm not!" Peter protested.

"He's not," concluded MacNair.

"Well... he will be very soon," said Sirius. "He's um… very ill."

"I'm getting better!"

"You're not." Sirius rolled his eyes in annoyance. "You'll be stone dead in a few minutes."

"Is that a threat?" challenged Peter.

"Shut _up_, Wormtail!"

"I can't take him like this." MacNair shook his head. "It's against regulations."

"Since when do you care about regulations?" asked Sirius. "Here, it's dead. Take it! Please!"

"I don't want to go on the cart!" Peter was now beginning to whine.

"Don't be such a baby," Sirius shot. He looked at MacNair pleadingly.

"I can't take him," he shrugged.

"I feel fine," Peter was insisting.

"Do me a favour?" asked Sirius.

"I can't."

"Well, can you hang around a couple of minutes? He won't be long."

"I promised to be at the Bone's today," said MacNair, gesturing down the street. "They've lost nine today."

Sirius sighed. He'd just have to put up with the little traitor for one more day, that's all. "When's your next round?"

"Thursday."

"I think I'll go for a walk!" Peter suggested.

"You're not fooling anybody." _Thursday?! Drat!_ He couldn't put up with Wormtail until Thursday! He'd probably go crazy and try and kill Moony if he had to! "Isn't there _anything_ you can do?"

Peter, meanwhile, had launched into song. "I feel happy! I feel happy!"

MacNair looked at the desperate Sirius for a moment before gazing up and down the street. If he was caught, he'd be sacked and _then_ what? In some sick and twisted way, he enjoyed this job. It was better than dirt collecting. But what was one tiny slip? No one would ever have to know. MacNair raised the saucer pan and clubbed Peter over the head with it, knocking him out.

Sirius sighed gratefully. "Thanks very much."

"That's all right," replied MacNair, watching Sirius unload the unconscious Peter onto the smelly cart. "I'll see you next Thursday."

MacNair was just about to continue on his way when, lo and behold, Harry and Colin came "riding" by through the mud. Sirius grinned and waved but Harry, in all his egotistical snobbery didn't notice. Sirius frowned, feeling forgotten which he was.

"Funny," mused MacNair. "That Potter boy looks like a king."

"Harry? A king?" Sirius laughed. "What gave you that idea?"

"He hasn't got shit all over him."

*** * ***

Harry was glad to leave the murky filth of the street behind him. For a brief moment he could have sworn he thought he saw his godfather but dismissed the notion almost immediately, knowing Sirius would never be caught wading through human filth. If only he knew...

Getting back on track of this basic plotline, Harry had decided to forget the Ravenclaws altogether and seek out a new court to recruit knights. He hadn't gone very far, Colin still supplying the low budget sound effects, when he spotted an elderly looking Hufflepuff, making her way through the fields, a small cart in tow. How Harry knew she was a Hufflepuff, is beyond the knowledge of anyone, (not taking into consideration the stained yellow rags) but subtle facts like that are rarely important... such as right now.

"Excuse me, miss?" called Harry. "Old Hufflepuff?"

The peasant turned around, startling Harry. They weren't a woman at all! Or a Hufflepuff for that matter. It was Terry Boot, yet _another_ Ravenclaw! Why he was dressed in filth and yellow instead of filth and blue was beyond Harry, but then again, Ravenclaws are weird.

"Man! I'm sorry!" apologized Harry hastily. "Old man, what knight lives in that castle over there?"

"I'm the same age as you," was the reply.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"I'm the same age as you, Potter! I'm not that old!"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Well... I can't just call you 'man.'"

"You could say 'Terry,'" sniffed Terry.

"I didn't know you were called Terry," admitted Harry defensively.

Terry stared at Harry accusingly. "Well you never bothered to find out, did you? You Gryffindors are all alike! Never caring about anyone outside your own house!"

"Look," sighed Harry, "I said I was sorry about the whole Hufflepuff woman thing, but from behind you looked—"

"What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!" protested Terry.

"Well," Harry puffed out his chest again. "I _am_ king."

Terry rolled his eyes. "Oh, very nice. King eh?" He snorted in sarcasm. "I expect you've got a palace and fine clothes and courtiers and plenty of food. And how'd you get that? By exploiting the workers! By hanging on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the social and economic differences in our society! If there's _ever_ going to be any progress—"

"Oh, Terry, there's some lovely filth down here!" Harry was trying to get his mind around what Terry had just said (he had gotten lost at "courtiers") when one of the Patil twins, Padma joined Terry, digging in the dirt. She looked up and spotted Harry. "Oh! How do you do?"

"How do you do, good lady," smiled Harry. Here was his second chance. She seemed more polite than Terry. Maybe Padma could help him find fellow knights. "I am Harry, King of the magical community. Can you tell me who lives in that castle?"

Padma blinked. "King? Of what?"

Harry sighed. "Of all of us... witches... wizards..." He gestured towards everyone present... yep, all three of them. "I am your king."

"Oh! I didn't know we had a king," admitted Padma. "I thought we were an autonomous collective..."

"You're fooling yourself," Terry interrupted. "We're living in a dictatorship, a self-perpetuating autocracy in which the working classes..."

"There you are, bringing class into it again," accused Padma.

"That's what it's all about. If only—"

"Please, please, good people," interrupted Harry. All this political talk and the big words were confusing him. Besides, he was getting side tracked. "I am in haste. What knight lives in that castle?" He pointed over yonder.

"No one lives there," Padma answered simply.

Harry looked confused, which he was. "Then who is your lord?"

"We don't have a lord."

"What?"

"I _told_ you," insisted Terry. "We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune. We take it in turns to act as a sort of executive prefect for the week."

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Terry continued, believing Harry was actually following what was being said. "But all the decisions of that prefect..."

"Yes, I see..." Harry was growing impatient.

"...must be approved at a bi-weekly meeting by a simple majority in the case of purely internal affairs."

Harry had completely lost interest, fake or not by now. It was time to shut Terry up. "Be quiet!"

Terry continued on, unphased by Harry's sudden outburst of royal command. "...but a two thirds majority..."

"Be quiet!" Harry ordered. "I _ order_ you to shut up!"

Padma turned to Terry. "Order, eh? Who does he think he is?"

"I am your king!" The vein in Harry's temple was throbbing again.

"Well _ I_ didn't vote for you," sniffed Padma.

"You don't vote for kings," Harry sighed exasperatedly.

"Well how did you become king then?" asked Padma.

Harry went starry eyed as he launched into another epic explanation, complete with radiant light and an unearthly choir. "The Lord of Black, fresh from the dungeons of Azkaban, sent forth the Firebolt to signify by Express Owl Mail Order ... that I, Harry, was to carry the Firebolt ... That is why I am your king!"

"Look, strange men from prison sending out broomsticks..." Terry shook his head. "That's no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical owl delivery!" 

Harry was now thoroughly insulted. "Be quiet!" was all he could muster to say.

Terry, however, was having a field day with this rant. Determined, it seemed to make Harry snap. "You can't expect to wield supreme executive power just 'cause some murderer gave you a broom!"

"Shut up!" cried Harry. Sirius was not a murderer! How dare Terry insult his godfather like that!

"I mean, if I went around saying I was an Emperor because some ragged ex-con had mailed me a gift, people would put me away!"

Harry had had enough. He grabbed Terry by the collar of his robes and shook him violently. "Shut up, will you? Shut up! _No one_ insults Sirius like that!"

Terry looked quite shocked and lost his nerve for only a moment. Then the all too familiar Ravenclaw look of superiority crept back along his face. "Aha! _Now_ we see the violence inherent in the system!"

"Shut up!"

A crowd was beginning to gather from all the shouting. Colin looked around nervously.

"Come and see the violence inherent in the system!" called out Terry to the gathering crowd. "Help, help! I'm being repressed!"

Harry was suddenly aware of everyone staring at him. He began to feel a bit uneasy. Terry had tricked him into this. He had planned all along to make him look bad! Growling, "Bloody peasant," Harry pushed Terry down into the mud. He motioned for Colin to come and the two hastily rode off, leaving the ranting Terry and the perplexed crowd far behind.

*** * ***

Harry didn't stop traveling until he was sure they were well out of Ravenclaw territory. This took some time as Harry was never really sure about anything. Eventually, they slowed down as they discovered themselves in the midst of a dense forest. It was a happy forest, where sunlight shone brightly through the trees. Clangs and dramatic battle music could be heard through the trees beyond. Harry and Colin made their way towards a clearing, eyes widening at what they saw.

Two knights were locked in extreme combat, parrying blows back and forth. One, a Slytherin, clad in black armour; the other, a Slytherin, clad in green armour. Harry and Colin watched the action eagerly as the two knights exchanged blows. With a cry, the green knight lunged at the black knight, who stepped aside gracefully and kicked away his adversary's sword. The green knight was quick to recover, magically retrieving a nasty mace out of nowhere. Harry watched with keen interest; could the black knight still survive the fight? With a psychopathic scream of rage Harry recognized to belong to Adrian Pucey, the green knight charge forward, his mace held high in anticipation of a fatal blow. In brutally instinctive response, the black knight hurled his sword forwards, sending it through the visor of Adrian's helmet. There was a shudder of breath and the green knight fell with a clanging thud. As Harry and Colin applauded at the large black knight's triumph, the knight went over to the fallen form which was once Adrian, kicked him once and pulled out his stained sword.

"You fight with the strength of many men, brave sir knight!" exclaimed Harry, running forwards towards the black knight. The knight turned to face Harry, leaning on his sword but said nothing. Harry figured the knight had no idea who he was. "I am Harry Potter, King of the magical community." Harry paused, waiting for a reaction. Nothing. "I seek the bravest and the finest knights in all the world to join me in my court at Hogwarts." Silence. "You have proved yourself worthy... will you join me?" Still nothing. Harry frowned. "You make me sad. Come, Colin." Harry motioned for Colin to come and made to move past the knight but the black knight moved to block his path.

"None shall pass." Harry recognized the voice to be none other than Marcus Flint. Suddenly, Harry understood why Flint hadn't answered him... he probably hadn't understood. However, Harry was at a loss for what Flint was playing at.

"None shall pass," repeated Flint, when Harry asked him to explain what he meant.

"I have no quarrel with you, Flint," said Harry, forgetting the polite formalities. "I just have to cross your bridge."

"Then you shall die."

Harry rolled his eyes. Why was he surrounded by idiots? "I command you, as the Boy Who Lived to stand aside."

"I move for no man."

"So be it!" challenged Harry, unsheathing his sword. Harry could have easily done Flint in with his wand but for the sake of action, he chose to prolong a fight sequence.

Harry and Flint clashed swords, parrying blows, locked in combat for about fifteen seconds until Harry swung his sword and severed Flint's left arm. It fell to the ground, Flint staring, as Harry stepped back in triumph.

"Now stand aside, troll," ordered Harry.

Flint shrugged. He wasn't out of the fight yet. "'Tis but a scratch."

"A scratch?" repeated Harry incredulously. "Your arm's off!"

"No it isn't," objected Flint.

"Well what's that then?" asked Harry, pointing to the arm on the ground.

"I've had worse," shrugged Flint.

"You're a liar!"

"Come on, you pansy!"

Flint ran at Harry again, his sword held in his right hand. Again they battled, this time for ten seconds before Flint found he had lost his other arm and his sword.

"Victory is mine!" Harry called triumphantly. He got down on his knees to say a grateful prayer but was interrupted by Flint kicking him in the head.

"Come on then." Flint was bouncing on the spot in anticipation for a fight.

Harry was confused. "What?" Flint kicked Harry again, knocking him over. Harry quickly got to his feet, brandishing his sword. "You're either extremely brave or incredibly stupid, Flint, but the fight is mine."

"Had enough?" mocked Flint.

"You stupid troll, you haven't got any arms left!"

"Course I have!"

Harry pointed to the arms on the ground. "Look!"

"It's just a flesh wound," dismissed Flint. He kicked Harry again.

"Stop that!" Harry ordered.

"Had enough then?"

"I'll have your leg!" threatened Harry. Ignoring him, Flint kicked him again. "Right!" Harry swung his sword and chopped off his leg.

Flint continued to stand, hopping around on one foot with great difficulty. "I'll do you for that."

"You'll what...?"

"Come here!"

"What are you going to do, _bleed_ on me?" shot Harry.

"I'm invincible!" cried Flint.

"You're a loony."

"The black knight always triumphs!" Flint cried manically. "Have at you!" Harry swung his sword and cut off Flint's other leg, leaving him as an immobile torso on the ground. Flint took one look at his present situation. "All right, we'll call it a draw."

"Come Colin," sighed Harry, sheathing his sword. The two crossed the bridge, leaving Flint behind.

"Oh, running away, eh?!" Flint called after them. "You Gryffindor bastard, come back here and take what's coming to you! I'll bite your legs off!" 

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_See why it took me forever to write this?! There's so much! Now, normally I write just for the hell of writing but for the love of pete, **REVIEW!!!** Now... it's off to work on my hobbit costume._


	3. Enter Sir Percival

_Author's Notes: **IT'S GONE!!! I DON'T BELIEVE IT!!! MY GREGOR PICTURE IS GONE!!! THE SITE'S DOWN!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! I SHOULD HAVE SAVED IT WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE!!!** *coughs* Ahem, yes... well, it's gone. Who is Gregor? *sighs* My future husband... he's so adorable... and funny! *grins* I'm hopeless, aren't I? Ahem, well... anyway, I finished chapter three... which surprisingly didn't take me long to write. Except for the beginning; for some reason I found it hard to **start** the chapter, but once I got going, it was fine. But still... I wish I had my Gregor pic... :(_

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, places, or things, nor am I the owner/creator of the gags seen in the movie "Monty Python and the Holy Grail". I own nothing! Sue me and you'll get just that.**

**_Harry Potter and the Quest for the Golden Snitch_**

**Chapter Three: Enter Sir Percival**

A fair distance away in a not-so-unrelated part of the forest sat a village. It was a quaint village where the inhabitants generally kept to themselves. No one minded the outside world as the outside world really didn't care about this particular village. Today was different though. An angry mob stormed through to the centre of the village, dragging along a bushy haired brunette, dressed in your average clothing of jeans and a shirt. Her expensive Nikes stood out, probably being the cleanest thing present.

If you hadn't guessed already, this young girl being dragged by the angry mob was Hermione Granger, dressed up for some soon-to-be-revealed reason. Cheering and yelling, the mob brought her over to a tall, lanky, and bespectacled man. Dressed in professional looking robes, Percy Weasley stood outside a very eccentric looking hut, deeply involved with some sort of experiment. He had just tied a coconut to the leg of a swallow and was letting it go to see if it would fly when the screaming of the mob caught his attention.

"We found a muggle!" cried one of the villagers. "May we burn her?"

"A muggle! A muggle!" echoed the gathered crowd.

Percy ogled at Hermione, surprised. "Hermione?!"

"Do something, Percy!" she pleaded.

"I can't, sorry," he apologized sincerely. "I'd _love_ to but it seems the author is bent on you burning at the stake... cruel bitch." Out of nowhere, an omnipotent invisible force slapped Percy across the face, sending his horn rimmed glasses askew. Percy rubbed his cheek, glaring upwards. "Well... I guess I could use some sort of twisted logic to try and get you out of this." He cleared is throat and looked out at the mob. "How do you know she's a muggle?"

"She looks like one!" yelled the village amongst many nods of agreement and yet, more senseless screaming. They pushed Hermione forwards towards Percy. He looked her over from head to toe.

"I'm not a muggle!" she protested. "You're all just jealous of my magical abilities!"

"But you're dressed as one," admitted Percy feebly.

"_They_ dressed me up like this!" Hermione pointed an accusing finger at the gathered wizards and witches. Immediately, cries of protest and denial flew up. "And these aren't even my clothes! See?" She showed Percy a tag on her shirt which said, "Property of Lavender Brown."

Percy looked up at the crowd for an explanation. "Well?"

"Well, that _is_ my shirt," admitted Lavender from somewhere in the crowd.

"The shirt?" Percy pressed.

"And the shoes," added Parvarti Patil. "But she _is_ a muggle!"

"A muggle!" cried the crowd. "Let's burn her!!"

"Did you dress her up like this?" Hermione looked at Percy. He seemed to be taking some time comprehending things.

"Um..." Lavender shifted on the spot uncomfortably. "Yes... no... a bit... yes... she does owns a compooper!"

"Why do you think she is a muggle?" asked Percy.

"Just look at her parents!" shrilled Parvarti. "They're dentists!"

"What's that got to do with anything?" asked Percy.

"Erm... nothing really," admitted Parvarti. "But we should burn her anyway!" The crowd echoed its eager agreement.

"Quiet! Quiet!" ordered Percy. "There are ways of telling if she is a muggle."

Harry and Colin entered the scene just then, wondering just what was going on. Harry saw the crowd of angry wizards and witches jeering at Hermione, and was about to step in and help her if it hadn't been for the voice in his head, promising him that if he strayed off the plot line, a certain author would make him die a horrible death. After careful consideration, he decided to stay put.

The crowd meanwhile was enraptured with Percy. "There are? Tell us! What are they, Weasley?"

Percy shifted uncomfortably. He could just ask Hermione to perform a spell. That would show them! But then there would be even less purpose to this part of the story. So he decided to come up with something else. "Tell me... what do you do with muggles?"

"Burn them!" screamed the crowd.

That wasn't the answer Percy had been looking for but he'd have to go with it. "And what do you burn besides muggles?"

"_More muggles!!_"

"...Wood...?" supplied someone.

"So then why do we burn muggles?" asked Percy.

Lavender thought hard. "Because...they're... made of wood?"

Percy smiled. "Good!" The crowd smiled and murmured, all agreeing upon the brilliance of that statement. Hermione rolled her eyes at Percy, but he continued anyway. "So how can we tell if she is made of wood?"

"Build a bridge out of her!" yelled out someone. Hermione stared incredulously.

"Ah... but can you not also make bridges out of stone?" Percy smirked.

"Ah... yes… of course..." agreed the villagers.

"Does wood sink in water?" asked Percy.

For a moment, the villagers discussed amongst themselves whether or not the insane Gryffindor Quidditch captain could swim until it suddenly dawned on them that Percy had meant the sort of stuff trees were made out of.

"No, it floats!" answered Parvarti.

"Let's tie weights on her and throw her into the pond!" suggested Lavender, to screams and cheers of agreement.

Percy took one look at Hermione's terrified face and tried to get the crowd under control again. "Wait! Wait! Tell me, what also floats in water?"

"Bread!"

"Apples!"

"Very small rocks!"

"Muggles!"

"We know that already!"

"I couldn't think of anything else!"

"A duck." Everyone turned to look at Harry for a moment. Percy grinned, relieved _someone_ around him wasn't an idiot... or so he thought.

"Exactly," said Percy. "So logically..."

"If she weighs the same as a duck..." began Lavender, "she's made of wood. And so that would make her... a muggle!"

"Someone conjure up a duck!" cried Parvarti. Someone in the crowd said something and with a quack, a duck appeared. "Here's a duck, Percy!"

Percy sighed. This wasn't how he had planned this at all. He shook his head. "You just don't—" The crowd glared at him. Percy grinned nervously. He didn't want a mutiny in his village. "We'll use my largest scales..."

He led the villagers over towards some oddly shaped and poorly built scale. They pushed Hermione into one of the pans and placed the duck in the other. Percy grinned with some slight satisfaction. He had built this ingenious scale himself and knew there was no way Hermione could weigh the same as a duck.

The supports were removed and the scale swung a bit. However, Hermione and the duck came out as being perfectly equal. Percy stared at the scene, dumbfounded, as the jeering villagers whooped in triumph and dragged Hermione off. Percy was too involved with the quirky scale to hear any of the death threats Hermione screamed at him.

Harry took the opportunity to go over to Percy. He waited for the taller man to turn around but Percy kept staring at the scales and muttering to himself. Harry cleared is throat and still Percy muttered over the scale. Harry tapped Percy on the shoulder. Percy whirled around, annoyed.

"What, Potter!?" Percy took in Harry's attire. "What are _you_ supposed to be?"

"I am Harry, King of the magical community!" replied Harry majestically.

Percy stared at Harry, thinking. This was stupid. How ever did he sink to this level? Harry? King?! Percy shrugged; he may as well go along with it. He got down on his knees. "My liege."

Harry grinned at Colin before turning back to Percy. "Good sir knight, will you come with me to Hogwarts, and join our number at the Triangular Table?"

"My liege, I am honoured!"

Harry stepped towards the kneeling Percy, his sword drawn. "What is your name?"

"Percy, you twi—I mean, my liege."

"Then I dub you," Harry announced proudly, "Sir Percival, Knight of the Triangular Table!"

Finally, after much searching, Harry had found his first knight. The wise Sir Percy was the first wizard to join Harry's court but other illustrious names were soon to follow. Sir Oliver the Brave... Sir Ronald the Pure... and Sir Neville the Not-quite-so-brave-as-Sir-Oliver who had nearly fought the flobberworm of Fangorn... who had almost eaten a Canary Cream... and who personally wet himself every time Professor Snape glanced in his direction... and the aptly named, Sir Written-out-of-this-fic.

Together they formed a band of hapless knights whose names and deeds were to be retold throughout the centuries (or at least until Miss Rowling finished the seventh book)... the Knights of the Triangular Table.

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_Well, that's the end of chapter three... now it's sort of beginning to **really** come along. Even better, while I was making the notes, **MY GREGOR PICTURE CAME BACK!!!** Review! *goes off to drool*_


	4. We're Going on a Quest!

_**Author's Notes:** Yeah, it's been a while since I last updated. But I've been busy again! What with discovering my own obvious stupidity and all (view the LJ). Actually, I promised my cousin I would help her build a web site and she decided a few days ago to take me up on my promise. I have an awful habit of not being able to break a promise. So I built it for her, but of course I mooched something out of it. **** It isn't done yet, in fact the only section which was put up was the Lord of the Rings section but the other stuff will be set up eventually. It just might mean you won't hear from me for a while. Anyway, that site (inside the HP section) is going to be the future home of the "Ask the Twins" and "Ask Oliver" columns (yes, I **finally** did something about it!) so you can go there if you're still interested in the long dead used-to-be-posted-here-when-it-was-legal column. For now you can look at pictures, read comments, **sign the guestbook and make my cousin happy, ** and take a look at the "Ask a Hobbit" section under "Lord of the Rings." Yes, I have **more** columns, this time with the hobbits. So, **make ME** **HAPPY** and go submit questions/letters for that (details on the site). So, here's the next chapter. Short, I know, but the next part was long and didn't fit nicely in the same chapter._

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, places, or things, nor am I the owner/creator of the gags seen in the movie "Monty Python and the Holy Grail". I own nothing! Sue me and you'll get just that. I also don't own Simba or Mufasa from the "Lion King", which is, as I may add, the greatest Disney movie EVER!!!**

_**Harry Potter and the Quest for the Golden Snitch**_

**Chapter Four: We're Going on a Quest!**

Now that Harry had gathered up his court of knights they could all set out for Hogwarts castle where there would be much drinking, eating, and song. Harry was particularly looking forward to this, as he hadn't had anything to eat for nearly three chapters and those coconuts the pages were carrying were beginning to look tantalizing. He was barely listening as Percy explained to him how sheep bladders could be used to prevent earthquakes.

The sun was just beginning to set in a fanciful display of crimsons and oranges when Oliver spotted something just beyond them in the distance. Everyone stopped to look in the direction he was pointing. Beyond sat a magnificent castle, whose towers and turrets rose high into the sky. The rays of sunlight from a fading day shone down upon the castle in holy reverence and dramatic effect.

"Hogwarts," breathed Harry, relieved at finally being home.

"Hogwarts," echoed Oliver and Ron.

"It's only a model," muttered Colin. He was quickly hushed by Harry. The knights were all staring at their king, confused. Harry smiled nervously and dismissed Colin's comment as nothing.

"Knights!" he announced. "I bid you welcome to your new home! Let us ride... to Hogwarts!"

And so they did ride to Hogwarts, where inside the Great Hall a lavish banquet was awaiting the knights. A vast number of people were gathered here, laughing, feasting, dancing through a poorly choreographed dance sequence and singing great ballads about the Knights of the Triangular table. The halls rung with the sound of wailing and song; lyrics about feasting on jams and spam, pushing prams, and the decoration of shiny sequined vests. Suddenly, our narration changed and once again the reader was looking upon Harry and his knights who had suddenly stopped riding towards the castle.

"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "On second thought, let's not go to Hogwarts. It's a silly place." The knights nodded and they turned around, riding off to who-knows-where.

Harry had no idea where he was leading his knights. He rather hoped that some sort of peasant or unearthly being would happen by and charge him with a quest. After all, what was the point in being the leader of a group of "famous" knights if they didn't have any deed to complete in order to earn their fame? What sort of stories would be written about him and his lordship if he didn't do anything to get attention? Semi-killing the Dark Lord by doing nothing wasn't something heroic, it was no more than illogical twisted luck! Harry wanted to _do_ something to be remembered for which he could actually remember doing!

Seeing as this story would go nowhere if something _didn't_ happen, the knights were soon bathed in a mysterious glow emanating from the heavens above. From the air came the melodious ringing of trumpets and a heavenly choir. The knights' pages grew frightened and whinnied while bashing their coconuts nervously. The knights fell to their knees as one (Neville tripping more than kneeling) as a mysterious figure appeared through the clouds.

"Simba..." boomed the voice. The knights looked up into the face of a mysteriously talking lion.

Harry blinked. "Who the devil are you?"

The lion stared back at him. "You're not Simba!"

"Of course I'm not—"

"Hey, push over there, you wretched two dimensional drawing!" boomed a second voice. The head of the lion faded to be replaced with that of a man. He was dressed in gold and scarlet robes of the finest silk. As the knights looked on, the omnipotent figure took a moment to regain his composure and look important. Eventually, he spoke. "Potter! Harry Potter!"

"Erm... that's me..." answered Harry, nervously, beginning to rise to his feet.

Percy reached out and yanked Harry back down by the hem of his kingly robes. "Grovel, Potter, that's Gryffindor!"

Harry, surprised, looked back up into the face of Godric Gryffindor, his house's founder. Gryffindor's gaze was fixed on Percy. He looked annoyed.

"Oh don't listen to that owl-eyed prat," rumbled Gryffindor. "Stop grovelling and stand up! I can't _stand_ people groveling! I built a bloody _school_ and I didn't even do it by myself! What sort of an infamous task is that?"

Harry, apologizing, got to his feet with the rest of the knights. "Hey, wait a moment... where are the other three founders?"

"What? We don't go _everywhere_ together!" replied Gryffindor, sounding annoyed. "We have our own separate lives, you know! That's why we never bother talking to any of you in most of these fics! You all stick us together like we're a bunch of conjoined quadruplets. Well we're _not!!!_"

"Sorry, sir," apologized Harry again.

"Oh forget it," sighed Gryffindor, dismissing the notion. "Me blabbering on like this is just a waste of time and web site bandwidth. So let me get to the point." He cleared is throat and spoke in a more ominous tone. "Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, your Knights of the Triangular Table shall have them a task to make them an example in these dark Hufflepuff-infested times."

"Oh, like a quest, you mean?" asked Harry. "What a good idea!"

"Of _course_ it's a good idea," boomed Gryffindor. "I came up with it." At these words another light began to shine amongst the clouds, revealing the shape of a small, golden ball.

"Behold, Harry, this is—"

"It's a Snitch!" exclaimed Oliver excitedly. "A Golden Snitch!"

"_**Do not interrupt me!!!**_" thundered Gryffindor, glaring at Oliver. He fell silent, bowing his head meekly. "Anyway, as Mr. _Obvious_ pointed out there, this is a Snitch. But not just any Snitch, Harry, this is the most sacred of Snitches. It is... golden and holy." There were several "oooh"s and "ahhhh"s from the knights. "It is your task, King Harry, to retrieve and keep this Golden Snitch. That is your purpose, Harry..." The music began to fade along with the image of Gryffindor. "The Quest for the Golden Snitch..."

Harry turned to look at the knights. Oliver was in tears of happiness. A Snitch! Percy looked bored and disappointed at his lot in life. Ron and Neville were eager to get moving.

"It's a blessing, Harry!" exclaimed Ron. "A blessing from Gryffindor!"

Harry grinned. Finally, something to allow him a proper claim to fame! Signaling to the knights, they once again "mounted" their "horses" and rode off to begin their search for the most golden of Snitches. 

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_There, end of chapter. Now, while I go off to be stupid and Tookish as is the daily lot of my life, **you** can review!_


	5. Au secours! Ici la francais!

_Author's Notes: I know it's been a while but I have another chapter for this story. What took me so long? Well aside from not finding time to get around to this, writing another story, and yet another one and... well... not always being home I was... unable to come up with an ending to this chapter. You'll see what I mean later on._

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, places, or things, nor am I the owner/creator of the gags seen in the movie "Monty Python and the Holy Grail". I own nothing! Sue me and you'll get just that.**

_**Harry Potter and the Quest for the Golden Snitch**_

**Chapter Five: Au secours! Ici la francais!**

And so the quest for the most golden of Snitches had begun. King Harry and his knights were off in search of this sacred Quidditch ball, not realizing that they had no idea where it was they were to look. Luckily, as they were travelling the knights came to a large castle, sitting all by its lonesome in a field.

The knights rode to a halt and looked up at the stone structure. The battlements were empty and the castle looked deserted. Harry was gazing up, searching for any sign of life when an all too familiar blonde head peeked out over the battlements.

"Oh no..." groaned Harry. "Hullo, Malfoy."

"Potter." Draco Malfoy nodded curtly.

"What are you doing in a castle?" asked Harry. "Which poor soul did you hex out of it?"

"For your information, Potter," snarled Malfoy, "this castle belongs to the great Salazaar Slytherin. Therefore, I have every right to be here."

Harry shrugged. "Well then will you tell your lord Slytherin that if he gives us food and shelter for the night he's welcome to join us in our quest for the Golden Snitch."

Malfoy smiled at Harry's naivety but decided to play along. "Okay, Potter, I'll go and ask him but I doubt he'll be very keen on the idea. You see, he's already got one."

Harry and his knights were stunned. Surely there couldn't be _another_ Golden Snitch... could there? After all, Godric Gryffindor would never have charged them in this epic quest if the token they sought after meant nothing.

Harry decided this needed clarification. "What?"

"He said they've already got one!" said Ron, trying to be helpful.

Harry looked up at Malfoy suspiciously. "Are you sure?"

"Oh yes, it's very nice!" replied Malfoy, grinning. As Harry and his knights muttered to each other in genuine confusion, Malfoy turned to his two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, who were sitting just out of sight atop the castle walls. Malfoy looked very pleased with himself. "I told them we've already got one." Crabbe and Goyle sniggered, having no idea what Malfoy was talking about.

"Well... can we come up and have a look?" asked Harry.

"Of course not!" answered Malfoy. "You are English pigs!"

"Um... I'm Scottish!" called up Oliver. Several unseen fan girls and kilt worshippers wooed.

"Same thing, now shut up!" ordered Malfoy.

"No, we're—"

"Silence!" Oliver fell silent, confused by Malfoy's sudden slew of French. Yes, that "silence" was French, not English.

Harry scratched his head, confused. "Since when are you not English, Malfoy?"

"Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me, Potter," sighed Malfoy. "Malfoy is a French name, you silly king. Where do you think I got this outrageously fake accent?"

"What are you doing in England then?" asked Ron.

"Mind your own business!"

Harry came to the conclusion arguing with Malfoy was going to get him nowhere. It was time to threaten him. "If you do not show us the Snitch, we shall take your castle by storm!" The knights nodded in agreement.

"You don't frighten us, Gryffindor pig-dog!" sneered Malfoy. "Go and boil your bottoms, you sons of a silly person. I blow my nose at you, so-called Harry-king, you and all your silly k... kannnnnnnnnniggets!" He stuck out his tongue and made a rather rude gesture to Harry and his knights. Yes, Malfoy blew a dreaded raspberry.

"I always knew he was cracked," commented Ron.

"Now look here, Malfoy!" Harry glared up at the blonde Slytherin. "If you—"

"I don't want to talk to you no more, you empty-headed animal food trough wiper!" Malfoy folded his arms across his chest with an air of superiority. "I fart in your general direction! Your muzzer was a hampster and your fazzer smelt of elderberries!"

"Is there someone else up there we could talk to?" ventured Ron.

"No," replied Malfoy. "Now go away before I taunt you a second time!"

"This is your last chance!" began Harry, ignoring the nonsense Malfoy had thrown at them. "I've been more than reasonable..."

Malfoy had gotten off the battlements and turned to Crabbe and Goyle. He was grinning from ear to ear. "Fetchez la vache!" The two Neanderthals stared at Malfoy dully. They had a hard time comprehending English let alone a foreign sounding language such as French. Malfoy rolled his eyes. "It means 'fetch the cow', you idiots!" Crabbe and Goyle nodded in understanding but didn't make a move. "_Get the bloody bovine!!!_" As Crabbe and Goyle thundered off to retrieve the barnyard beast, Malfoy raised his eyes to the heavens pathetically. "Ah mon dieu..."

Meanwhile, Harry was still ranting down on the ground, oblivious to the fact that Malfoy had gotten up and left. "Now that is my final offer. If you are not prepared to agree to my demands I shall be forced to take... _bloody hell!!!_"

A cow had just been launched over the side of the castle, mooing in as menacingly a way as possible. The knights watched in horror as the cow landed and with a sickening crunch, crushed Ron's poor first year page.

Harry took a moment to compose himself but pulled out his sword nonetheless. "Right! Knights! Forward!"

They charged, swords drawn towards the castle having no intelligent plan of attack. Suddenly, though, they were besieged as a rain of assorted barnyard animals were launched over the castle walls. Clucking chickens and quacking ducks rained down on Harry and his Gryffindor knights. For the first time in recorded history, pigs flew as the French Slytherins flung them over the walls at the knights. The onslaught was too much for the Gryffindors to handle.

"Run away! Run away!" cried Harry, leading a hasty retreat into the bushes. There they crouched, waiting out the hail of animals.

Oliver was beside himself in thoughtless fury. "The sods! I'll tear them apart!"

"No, Wood!" Harry hissed, grabbing the older boy around his ankles to stop him from revealing their hiding place.

Amidst their arguing, Percy spoke up. "I have a plan, sir." Harry and Oliver stopped fighting to look at Percy.

And so Percy explained his idea in questionable detail to the other knights. Following his instructions they set to work on the required carpentry, magically acquiring all the necessary equipment in what would be a rather large plot hole if they all had not been in fact wizards. During all this work, the Slytherins watched from atop their castle with severe suspicion as to what was going on in their woods. As the day grew, a twinge of nervousness could be felt in the air. Just what were those Gryffindors up to? The knights worked hard long into the night as the Slytherins watched and waited.

Eventually dawn broke and the sun began its journey across the sky. All was silent except for the creaking sound of poorly oiled gears. Slowly the noise grew louder until the silhouetted form of a giant rabbit appeared from amongst the foliage. Behind it were a few of the knights' pages, wheeling the rabbit as stealthily as possible up to the castle door. Leaving the rabbit, the pages scuttled back into the protection of the underbrush.

It wasn't long before Crabbe and Goyle appeared, peeking out the castle front door. They looked up at the giant wooden rabbit dumbly, scratching their heads in extremely mild thought. After a moment's contemplation the two gorillas grunted at each other, pointing at the rabbit. Obviously they were trying to figure out what it was for exactly. Eventually, the conclusion was reached that it was a gift and with a great effort, they wheeled the rabbit inside. Harry and the knights watched excitedly from the bushes.

"Now what happens?" asked Harry, turning to Percy.

"Well, Oliver, Ron and I wait until nightfall," explained Percy, "and then leap out of the rabbit, taking the Slytherins not only by surprise but completely and totally unarmed!"

Harry scratched his head. "Who jumps out?"

"Er... we... Oliver, Ron, and I..." The realization of their current situation suddenly dawned on the Weasley. "We... uh... leap out of the... rabbit..." Oliver groaned and covered his eyes in exasperation. Percy was not one to be defeated though. He always had a back up plan! "Look, if we built a giant wooden badger—" He was swiftly silenced by Harry cuffing him over the head.

Sighing, Harry turned back to the Slytherin castle. They needed another plan of attack to get inside and discover if they really did have the Golden Snitch. His plotting was cut short however as there was a loud twang and the wooden rabbit they had worked so hard to build came sailing over the castle walls towards them. Scrambling to their feet, the knights turned around and fled deeper into the woods.

**_* * *_**

Meanwhile, the author had sent out want ads for someone to step in as a very reliable historian type person. Unfortunately, the turn out was less than satisfying so the author had to use her god-like powers in the world of fandom and nab a canon character to stand in. She wracked her brains for days trying to decide who would be the perfect character to stand in as a guest. Unfortunately, she came up with nothing and stuck Dumbledore in there.

Dumbledore cleared is throat and began his prepared speech. "Defeat at the castle seemed to have utterly disheartened King Harry. The ferocity of the Slytherins' taunting took him completely by surprise and Harry became convinced that a new strategy was required if the quest for the Golden Snitch were to be brought to a successful conclusion. Harry, having consulted his closest knights, decided that they should separate and search for the Snitch individually. Now, this is what they did. No sooner had..."

As Dumbledore went on explaining the plot and giving away every small detail of the story, a very suspiciously familiar looking knight (you decide who) rode forward and, sword drawn, stabbed at Dumbledore, levelling him. There was a pause as the knight rode away, laughing at his clever and senseless deed.

"Albus!" McGonagall came racing into the clearing, looking down at the fallen headmaster in horror. Oh the humanity! Who could have done such a thing? 

_I apologize for anyone remotely french out there who found this offensive. Take it lightly, it's a joke. Thank you._


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